


when i met you in the summer

by little_miss_tien



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: 3 am, Adrinette, Angst, Bittersweet, F/M, Growing Up, Grown Up, LadyNoir - Freeform, Le Papillon, Marichat, Miraculous Ladybug Love Square, Sadness, hawkdaddey, i finished this at 3 am jesus, im trash for angst, ladybug on the corner of bitter and sweet, mon coeur aime adrien, neither will i, never looking back, send help these two, they wont forget
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 16:45:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13081044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_miss_tien/pseuds/little_miss_tien
Summary: his hair was the color the beach, and her eyes of the ocean and blueblublue skies. neither of them would ever forget.





	1. behind-the-mask masks

**Author's Note:**

> adfsladfskjlafsljdfs sorry for doing this to you guys :')  
> also the first chapter i started way back when its really gross im sorry the next ones are real quality tho so just hang in there and get through this trashy chapter XD

i.   
The city lights cast a warm, golden glow over the Parisian skyline. The air was warm and humid, soft music drifting and spiraling up from the numerous restaurants packed with lovers and friends alike sharing dinner.   
It was in the middle of spring, all the flowers in bloom, their sweet and cloying scents perfuming the air. The full, spring moon, a full golden orb, lay on the backdrop of black velvet and stars like diamonds.  
Nights in Paris weren’t usually this warm during the spring, which made it especially uncomfortable fighting Akumas while sweating in a very tight suit.  
Chat Noir figured if he was going to be a superhero, he might as well take advantage of some of the perks- which included ice cream.  
Of which, included having a possible (dare he call it?) date at the top of the Eiffel Tower with Ladybug. No one really questioned when one of the esteemed heroes of Paris hastily asked for a two ice cream cones, vanilla yes please, the waffle cones are fine, please hurry, besides the awestruck stares. He didn’t pay them any mind. After all, he did have his Lady waiting for him.   
“-and that one’s Cygnus! The swan constellation.” Ladybug pointed to towards the sparkling night sky.  
They were both sitting on the railing at the top platform of the Eiffel Tower, legs dangling over the side. She had long finished her cone, while he was still attacking his with a vigor.  
He followed her finger, eyes tracing the sky. “Hey.”  
Ladybug tilted her head in his direction. The breeze played with her thick black locks that hung across her forehead. Smaller strands of hair framed her face. Her clear, cerulean-blue eyes gazed at him, starkly contrasted by her polka-dotted mask.  
Chat Noir hastily swallowed, ignoring the warmth trickling down his spine mixed with an apprehensive shiver.   
“Do you know the legend about Cygnus?” he asked, “I mean, the Chinese version. Not the Greek one.”  
Ladybug smiled wryly. “No, but I feel like I should… I’m, uh, part-Chinese.”  
Chat Noir blinked in surprise. She normally wasn’t as lax about telling him about herself- what with the insistence they keep their civilian identities secret. Maybe she was finally reciprocating his feelings?  
“As the story goes, a fairy fell in love with a mortal man. But because she was a fairy, she wasn’t allowed to be with him. So the goddess in charge or something, when she found out they had secretly married, separated them. But once a year, a bridge of magpies- that’s supposed to be Cygnus- helps them get back together,” he explained.  
“Hmm,” she hummed pensively.  
They fell into a sort of companionable silence.  
Chat Noir hesitated- if he asked her more about herself, would she deflect his questions? Mustering his courage, figuring it was worth a shot, he asked, “So, Bugaboo.” He flashed her a smile in his usual cocky way. “What will you be doing this fall?”  
She flicked a wayward strand of hair out of her face, legs dangling over the side of the railing. She looked carefree and happy, like a little kid. “I’ll be going back to school, chaton. Its right around here, in Paris.”  
Okay, so vague enough, but that was still something. His grip tightened on the railing, claws digging into the metal railing. Was he always so desperate? Why was he so desperate?  
It was always a game of cat and mouse, with him chasing and she leading him on with laughs and smiles.  
“What’s the name of the school?” He tried to keep his voice level. Flashing back to when Alya had posted on the Ladyblog that Ladybug had dropped the same history textbook he himself had, he wondered if she went to the same school as him. She certainly seemed old enough to be.  
Ladybug quirked a smile at him, tracing shapes onto the railing below her. She hopped off, and Chat Noir tensed to follow her. Her feet softly thudded on the platform, the twinkling lights of the tower casting a warm glow on her hair.   
She tilted her head back, engulfed in the light. Chat Noir paused for a minute, drinking in the image of her like some sort of angel silhouetted by the sun.   
It was a moment frozen in time, his breath catching in his throat. Her blue eyes- they were so beautiful, so blue, so deep with emotion- traced the glowing starlight caught in the curve of his cheek, sparkling with mirth. God, he loved her. If he could, he would frame this moment forever.  
Just them. The two of them, always. Through all trials and time, it was meant to be- two part of a whole, two sides of light and dark. Preordained since the beginning and continuing to the end.  
A small smile curved its way across her lips. His eyes flicked to mouth, watching.  
“If we ever defeat Le Papillon, I’ll let you know. It’ll be safe then.”  
And she was gone.


	2. at school

ii.  
“Marinette! Marinette!”  
A sharp voice interrupted her blissful sleep- her much needed sleep.  
Why did she have to wake up? She mumbled something unintelligible, burying her head in her arms. The desk was nice… the classroom was warm….  
Class.. room…  
“GYAH-” Marinette’s eyes flew open as she flailed awake, nearly knocking her books off the table and bopping Alya in the head.  
“Ow! Marinette!” Alya groused, rubbing the sore spot on her head.  
“Sorry, sorry.” Marinette shook her head, trying to reorient herself. Through the muddle haze of her half-asleep state, she could make out a rather angry-looking Madame Mendeleiev.  
The physics teacher loomed imposingly over Marinette, looking over the rim of her glasses at the girl with little mercy. She pursed her lips, tutting in disappointment.  
“That’s the third time this week!” the teacher snapped, harsh voice grating, “You and Adrien both! Can’t be bothered to stay awake in class? Principal's- now!”  
Marinette’s head whipped around in surprise behind her. Adrien, too? The star-student, lauded for exceptional grades and perfect behavior? She knew her excuse- what was his?  
Adrien, sporting dark circles under his eyes and mussed hair, yawned as he smiled sheepishly down at her from his desk. Offering a tired smile, he waggled his fingers at Marinette as he gathered his things.  
“Marinette!” Madame practically yelled in the girl’s ear, shaking her out of her thoughts. “Now!”  
Marinette winced while she shoved her books haphazardly into her book bag, which she slung over her shoulder. On fatigued legs, she pulled herself to her feet and began to stagger out of the room.  
Casting a glance behind herself, she saw Adrien was faring no better. He was having trouble staying upright as well, but that didn’t stop him from holding the door for her.  
Her cheeks flashed red, head ducked as she brushed by him.  
He smiled at her.


	3. victorious

iii.  
That was it. It was over.  
Ladybug choked on the dust, on the pain, on the end.  
Dust swirled around them, cloaking the world in muted shades of gray and brown. Chunks of concrete fell beside her.  
“Chat!” she rasped, calling out desperately for her partner.   
Her surroundings were completely silent, with only a few cracks and rumbles interspersed through the silence. The remnants of the structure groaned in tandem with her as she pulled her bruised and throbbing body upright, her hacking coughs reverberating through the swirling eddies of debris.  
Her body burned, everything hurt, and she stumbled blindly through the once-great Agreste mansion, arms thrown out in yearning for Chat.Chat will make it better, Chat is always there, Chat will know what to do, the thoughts ran, clouding and clumping in her mind.   
She stifled a sob. She needed him, more now than ever.  
As bright as a ray of sun on a rainy day, a familiar voice answered her call.  
“My Lady! Ladybug!”  
Vaguely through the debris she could make out a familiar black figure, poised and turning in vain to locate her.  
“I’m here!” she called, stumbling towards him.   
“I’m here,” she sobbed in relief as she collapsed in his arms. “I’m always here.”  
He was murmuring a million things into her hair, a million things she didn’t care about, because he was right here, he was safe, and they stood holding each other close, whispering consolations and friendship in each other’s ear.  
She felt her transformation drop, Tikki falling into her open and waiting palm. Through the blurred vision of her tears, she pressed a kiss to her Kwami’s head and cradled her close.  
In a flash, Chat de-transformed as well. His black Kwami had fared no better, fading in and out of consciousness before allowing Chat to scoop him into his arms.  
The dust began to clear.  
“Ladybug.” Chat’s voice was husky. “Look at me. Ladybug.”  
Marinette raised her eyes and met his.  
Green, beautiful green eyes. Green like spring and hope and new beginnings, green like how she felt around Adrien and laughing with Chat. The same green.  
“Adrien,” she whispered, a watery laugh bubbling to her lips, tentative fingers touching his face. How had she never noticed?  
Him, it was always him. It should be him, it was him, and she would have it no other way.  
“Marinette.” Those beautiful green eyes were clear and they understood. “Marinette,” he repeated, savoring her name on his tongue slowly.  
She took his hand, and together they hobbled to where the prostrate body of Le Papillon sprawled, back to them.  
It didn’t move.  
Through the motes of residual dust, through slanted eyes, Marinette could make out the sun cresting over the rooftops of Paris. Her Paris.  
Light fell on the body, and Adrien’s breath caught in his throat. Marinette felt a lump rise in hers.  
She had only met Gabriel Agreste a number of times, but it was unmistakably him.  
“Father.” Adrien’s eyes were full of grief and numb at the same time and Marinette squeezed his hand, pulling him close and holding him as sobs shook his frame.  
Civilians, curious about the ending of the final battle between Paris’ beloved heroes and their enemy, began to poke their heads out from their windows. The murmuring started, soft at first, before everyone was openly running out into the streets and everyone was shouting at once.  
Marinette held Adrien close, and for a moment while the sun rose and touched her cheeks, the only world that existed to her was the one she held in her arms.


	4. away, across the ocean blue

iv.  
Months went by. Quiet months, filled with reflection and quiet companionship.  
It was winter, again. The cold gray skies reflected in the cold waters of the Seine, the same color as the metal railing on the bridge. The streets were empty and silent, the trees barren and off-white branches stretching towards the sky.   
Marinette peered over the edge of the bridge, ignoring the sharp cold bite of the railing through her thin shirt. Reflected back at her was the face she knew was hers, but didn’t look like it.  
Dull blue eyes, sorrowful and missing Tikki. It was long since she had passed on the mantel of Ladybug, but she felt the emptiness every passing day.  
Long black locks cascading over her shoulders. After the grand finale against Le Papillon, she would do anything to escape the past. They had won, but paid the price.   
She wasn’t sure if her tired eyes or her longer hair made her look older.   
Or maybe it was just that she was older, with her face leaner and more angular than it was before. Sometimes, she found it hard to go on these days.  
Her parents were well. School was fine, and she was accepted by a fashion school in New York.  
New York. The name tasted of foreign prestige and fledgling dreams taking flight.  
A mirthless smile reached her lips.  
It was funny, how things turned out. She had been accepted by one of the most prestigious colleges for fashion and design that would no doubt kickstart her already prodigious career. It was everything she had ever wanted, but not.  
She wanted to be able to fly over the roofs of Paris again, cloaked in night and waxy yellow light. She wanted to giggle with Tikki as she stayed up all night trying to do her homework, like they used to. She wanted to be able to throw puns back and forth with Chat, gracelessly taking down Akumas. She wanted to forget what she had given to win, when the Akumas became darker, more powerful, more deadly and she and Chat kept fighting and winning but somehow losing at the same time.  
A familiar feather-light touch on her shoulder shook her out of her reverie, and she turned.  
Life had been treating Adrien well. In the time lapsed, the already-handsome boy became a groomed young man, quickly rising as an independent model and the head of his own fashion line. Known for his kind nature, beautiful sad eyes, and delicate features and presence, Adrien Agreste would continue his path as a successful model.   
“Hey,” he said, flashing her a quick grin. It would have melted anyone else’s heart, but she knew the sadness that smile belied. Instead, her heart ached.  
“Hi,” she replied softly, returning to gazing out to the Seine.  
He joined her, and the two watched the water swirl beneath them.  
“So you’re leaving. For America.” It was a statement, not a question.  
“Yeah.” A pause. “You’re staying.”  
“Yeah.”  
They fell into a tense silence.  
His hand edged over the cold metal to hers, and like the old days they linked hands. It was warm, familiar, and reminded her of better days.  
“You won’t forget?”  
“How can I?”  
She smiled a melancholic smile at him, and with his eyes closed and thick eyelashes brushing the tops of his cheekbones, he leaned in close and kissed her softly.  
She tried to imprint this in her memory, the feeling of him against her lips, just them and their world.  
“I love you,” he whispered against her chapped lips.  
“Always,” she agreed.


	5. moving along

v.  
At first, Marinette doesn’t notice how she clings to the past.  
It starts with looking at boys with blonde hair or green eyes, or favoring prints of black and red, or seeing things that stir up memories like flurries of snow and lips playing in a nostalgic smile.  
But then she does realize that it’s been years, and though she has consciously moved on, her heart has not.  
Maybe it never will.  
But as she strides against the snow that has covered the streets of New York, genuinely laughing with paper coffee cups warming her hands with a boy with red hair and blue eyes, speaking a tongue that tastes strange, she knows things are changing.  
As she moves from the past into the present and the steady flow of work sweeps her up and she works and works, without a second chance to stop and think. She grows older and her eyes grow lighter as she spends mornings with the boy with red hair and blue eyes and nights with new friends. New jokes, new memories, and soon it is behind her.  
xxx  
Adrien throws himself into his work, right away. It is an easy distraction from the things he knows he longs for but cannot have and so he fills his empty heart with designs and photoshoots.  
They do not notice why his smile is so sad or his eyes so deep but they love it and keep telling him to stare into the camera and pose.  
They cannot understand.  
So years pass by and he is managing his own brand name and it is hard to walk through the streets without feminine cries screaming and chasing him into alleys or to see his name and face stamped all over Paris and more.   
It all blurs together and he is ok with that, because he knows no matter how much he may try to lose himself in other girls, the one with the black hair, blue eyes with swan constellations overhead will never leave him.  
He thinks, as he takes a girl with blonde hair and blues eyes who looks at him adoringly, as his wife, she might never leave him. So he settles when he presses a chaste wedding kiss to that blonde girl’s lips and her eyes flutter, so he settles when he slips a fancy and big diamond onto her finger and soon they run the household and company together.  
But some days he’ll find himself staring out the windows, seeing her eyes in the blue sky.


	6. it's been a long time, my friend

vi.  
Sometimes, she thinks it’s all a dream. When she wakes up by the boy with the red hair and blue eyes’ side, peppering kisses all over her face and she giggles, it all feels surreal. It feels surreal as she meets with colleagues and friends to discuss new designs and attends photoshoots to model her latest creation. It feels like something so distant and faraway but bittersweet on her lips every time she sees the green of the first spring, much like the eyes of a boy she loved long ago.  
And so as she stands there, twenty-six years to her name with a small blue diamond sparkling on her hand at the beach, with the caws of magpies and seagulls overhead, her boy holding her hand. She raises her eyes and meets his gaze like she did so many years ago.  
His eyes are the same, she notes, as he stares at her across the stretch of the sand on the beach with the same familiar clarity. His hand is clasped in that of a beautiful woman, a model she probably had met in passing one time or another, that cradles a small child in her other arm.  
He remembers a time they sat under the starlight of Paris talking about ancient Chinese love stories and swan constellations. He remembers a time when they smiled, innocent children, in love but not knowing it till it was too late.  
His hair is the color of the sand, she thinks, as she nods slowly to him.  
Her eyes are the color of the blue sky and sea, like they always had been, he thinks, as he returns her nod.  
And as either of them turn away, walking into their new lives, they will never forget.


End file.
